SIX
Jamie Dolan flipped the girl over on her back. He didn’t know what excited him more, her big tits or her split lip. He finally decided it was the split lip. God had given her the tits, but he’d given her that.
He reached down with his big hands and grabbed her breasts. He pinched her nipples, hard enough to make her bite her lip, to force tears from her eyes.
His huge penis was poking her. Her eyes were afraid. She thought he was too big for her. Surely, if he tried to put it in her it would hurt and maybe even damage her.
“Please . . .” she said.
“Please what?”
“Please . . . don’t . . .”
He squeezed her breasts tighter, grinning.
“I like when they beg.”
He removed one hand from her breast, slid it down her body. Even though she was small—barely five feet—she had a voluptuous body. She was like a child and a woman at the same time.
He slid his finger into her, wiggled it around. She became wet in spite of herself.
She was barely nineteen, but he knew she was no virgin for the simple reason that she had been sent over from the whorehouse. Unless this was her first time—but he doubted it. Sure, she felt tight, but she’d been fucked before.
Only not the way she was about to be.
He grabbed her thighs, spread them open, and drove his rigid penis into her. Her eyes widened and she screamed—not from pleasure but from pain.
Which was his pleasure . . .
Later, he flipped her over again. She was limp, but it didn’t matter to him. He withdrew from her, glistening with her juices. He pressed the wet tip of his penis to her ass, spread her cheeks and pushed. The spongy head spread her anus, entered, and then was followed by the hard shaft.
“Oh, God . . .” she moaned, because she was too weak to scream anymore.
He lifted her up onto her hands and knees, grabbed her hips, and began to fuck her brutally.
“There ya go,” he said, with glee. “Come on, lass. Love it!”
She moaned again . . .
Dolan stood at the window of his room, looked down at the Barbary Coast. As soon as he’d gotten off the ship that had brought him here, he recognized the coast as his kind of place. Behind him the girl lay curled up on the bed, crying softly.
“Finish yer cryin’, gal, then get dressed, and get out.”
“I-I can’t walk.”
He laughed.
“I figured I fucked you stupid,” he said, “but now you can’t walk either?”
“N-no.”
He turned to look at her. There was some blood on the sheet. Perhaps she had been a virgin, after all. Or maybe he’d just torn her up inside. He thought about killing her, but that would have started him off on the wrong foot in this new country.
“I’ll go and get somebody to help you,” he said. Then he laughed and added, “Wait here.”
He got dressed and left the room.
In the lobby the desk clerk shuddered when he saw Jamie Dolan coming down the stairs. The man frightened him to death.
“You!” Dolan said.
“Y-yes.”
“Send for someone from the whorehouse,” he said. “The poor bitch can’t walk.” He laughed and cupped his crotch. “Ya ever fuck a gal so she can’t walk, lad?”
“N-no sir.”
“I didn’t think so.”
The clerk was about thirty, but looked younger. He also—as far as Dolan was concerned—was so slight he looked more like a girl than a man.
“I need somebody to get that gal outta my room . . . quick.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dolan pointed a thick finger at the clerk.
“Don’t make me wait too long, boy.”
“No, s-sir.”
“I’m goin’ back up,” Dolan said. “If somebody ain’t here in ten minutes ta get her, I’ll toss her out the window. And then I’ll come back for you. Understand?”
“I-I understand.”
Dolan grinned.
“There’s a good lad,” he said, and then went back up the steps.